Slight Change of Plan
by WatchingTheAngels
Summary: Guard!Dean, Prisoner!Cas.  Prison AU: Dean Winchester was no pussy, and the new guy was seriously pissing him off.  Prisoners need to be put in their place, but will he do it before it's too late? PWP.


Written for a kink meme over on Livejournal a long time a go. Finally figured I'd post it over here. :)

Un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

**Warnings:** Umm... a lot of humiliation IMHO, as well as non-con and general douchebagery. Set in a prison AU, Guard!Dean and Prisoner!Cas. Bottom!Dean.

* * *

><p>Slight Change of Plan<p>

The new shipment of prisoners was just arriving at the gate and Dean was the guard on point. Why they were being brought on a Friday night still baffled him, but whatever. Fresh meat.

"You seem anxious, Dean? Think you're actually going to scare them, Winney?" Ash, the other 'welcoming' guard, asked as Dean gripped his night stick a little tighter.

"I've told you not to call me that." He bit out. "Winney is such a pussy name, Ash. Do I look like a pussy?"

"Not particularly..."

"Exactly. So shut the fuck up."

Ash just scoffed and shook his head with a smile. "Touche."

Dean stole the clipboard, riffling through the names and offenses for anything interesting. "Who we got coming in? Anything good?"

"A lot of no names with nothing better than assault or robbery. There are a few good ones, though. Chuck Shurley, the scruffy looking guy with the God complex they caught hunched over the computer writing about his murders, was caught because his girlfriend, Becky, hacked into his computer because she was sure he had been cheating on her. That transvestite prostitute who was on the news a while ago, Rudy 'Ruby' McDaniels, committed double homicide." He paused, his brow scrunched for a moment before he smiled. "Oh yeah. Those gang guys, the Angels; they're coming in today. Apparently one of the guys girlfriend tried to cheat and before the guy could get his pants up, the Angel, Raphael I think his name was, burst into the room and smashed his face in. He wasn't alone, of course. One of the other guys in his gang helped Raphael torture the poor bastard."

Dean was positively vibrating with happiness.

Covering for Uriel had its perks.

Most of the orange jump-suit covered criminals grumbled as they were processed and admitted into Lawrence Federal Penitentiary, but not the three Angels. Ash's hacking skills must have become a little rusty if he missed an Angel. The trio was silent as they walked along the asphalt to the double door entrance, not looking around at the other inmates just on the other side of the mesh fence who were taunting them. Especially the short one. Gabriel. The tall black one was Raphael, leaving the trim blue eyed guy to be Castiel. Who would pick that as their name, of all the angels?

As they made their way through ward, dropping inmates off into their cells, Dean kept his eye on the black haired Angel. There was something about him Dean didn't like. He couldn't put his finger on it and that pissed him off. If he was a little harsh when pushing the criminals into their barred rooms, no one said anything. Dean was, after all, known to be the meanest guard in the ward.

"Close on forty-three!" Ash called out to the guard at the station. The door slid closed behind Gabriel. Dean waited for a moment to make sure he wouldn't kill his new roommate before they went to the last available cell. "Open forty-eight!"

Castiel stepped just passed the threshold then turned around to face Dean. Those eyes tried to burrow into him, tried to make him fidget or look away but only succeeded in making him glare harder. He hadn't heard Ash call to close the door, but even the bars filing between them couldn't break the eye contact. No one got the better of Dean Winchester.

"Come on, Dean. Break's in five and I'm starved."

Dean only turned his eyes from Castiel and down the corridor because he was starving and he had cold pizza waiting for him in the fridge.

* * *

><p>"How's your new roomy, Bobby? He try anything yet?" Dean asked as he slid a pack of cigarettes into the old inmate's hand as Bobby Singer leaned against the brick wall a few feet away. Bobby had been here before Dean began working at Lawrence Pen, and never let Dean forget it. He knew how things worked with the other criminals and often let Dean know if things were about to go down. Bobby was no snitch, though. If it didn't benefit him, he wouldn't say a word. Thus the cigarettes. A pack for each chat and Bobby would answer most of Dean's questions as long as he knew the answers.<p>

Pulling the tab on the box open, Bobby yanked the aluminum crap out and popped one of the filters between his lips. Dean leaned over to light it. After taking a long drag and blowing it out, Bobby answered. "Doesn't say much. At first I thought he was mute, then that he wasn't much of a talker. Saw him earlier with his buddies and he was chatting away. Won't say shit to me, so won't say shit back. Scary little fucker." Taking another pull and letting it out, he sighed. "I think his Russian is better than his English 'cause it's the only language he talks in with the other Angels. Can't say for sure."

"You never can." Dean laughed.

Bobby tipped his head in Dean's direction before leaning back into the brick wall once more.

A few minutes go by as Dean's gaze flutters over the crowd of prisoners, landing on a few. Rudy was lounging back along one of the bleaches looking at his nails and tisking. A few other men were huddled together playing a card game. He wasn't looking for anything in particular he kept reminding himself, especially not the pair of freakishly blue eyes that were piercing their way through Dean's skull from the other side of the yard.

Castiel was standing, arms crossed, beside his fellow Angels. His tattooed arms were on display because he'd taken the top half of the uniform off and tied it around his waist, leaving him in his white short sleeved shirt that rode up in the front, teasing Dean with a peek at his creamy white stomach. Those eyes just stared at him.

"Russian, you say?" Dean asked.

Bobby chuckled as he tapped the tip of a fresh cigarette against the dying end of the old one. "What the fuck ever, Dean. I've no idea. Like I said, the guy doesn't talk."

Dean let out a soft 'hmm' before he shoved off the wall to make his rounds.

* * *

><p>The lunch that day was pretty gross, even by Dean's standards. Not only did it smell like shit, it slithered off the spoon like slop, landing with a sick plop on the tray as he stalked down the aisles between the tables. It was supposed to be mashed potatoes. They lied.<p>

A shove from his right pushed him a little. Slapping a murderous glare on his face, he pivoted around and found Gabriel standing behind him with a smirking-leer-thing on his face that immediately pissed Dean off. He rested his open palm on the grip of his night stick. "What do you think you're doing there?"

Gabriel appeared as though he was going to reply but one look at the other inmates who were fastidiously staring at their trays, the floor, or anywhere else Dean wasn't, made him pause. Instead of speaking he stared around Dean's shoulder and pursed his lips a little, then shrugged and walked around Dean. He watched as Gabriel waltzed over to the table with the other Angels, snagging a roll from an unknowing inmate on his way by. The guy started to protest but one look from the Angel and he'd sat back down.

Inmate, then the Angels, then Dean. As long as he was on top, Dean didn't care who was second.

He made to turn away, to walk through the aisles again and make sure no one had a spork stuck in an unsavory place when he felt eyes on him. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, just one that he didn't like. Turning again in the Angel's table's direction he saw Castiel. Those blue, blue orbs boor into him. He could feel something not quite right about it. Dean placed his hand on the night stick again, just as before; a reminder that he was in charge.

Castiel didn't look away.

* * *

><p><em> Slap, slap, slap, slap...<em>

It was continuous. A repeating sound that just about made Dean shiver. The sound was a flesh on flesh hit, a beating in a rhythmic play of a beat. It was punctuated by a grunt every few seconds, followed by a curse or a much harder slap. It was loud. It was sex. It was...

Coming from Lucifer's room.

Being that it was the time of day that they allowed the doors to the cells to remain open so the inmates may 'socialize', there was chaos as usual. Gangs and groups of people were in their respected corners of the cell block, some huddled together and practically whispering like teenage girls while others were screaming and making lewd gestures. All looked away from Dean's stare as he walked by.

Dean was in a fowl mood. Not only had he had a restless night with dreams of his little brother at Christmas when he was seven, but he also hadn't gotten laid in a month.

If he wasn't getting any, neither would anyone else.

As he rounded the corner of the cell and opened his mouth to sneer something like, 'Alright, cut it out, Bunnies. No more fuckin' for you or three days in solitary.', but the words were choked in his throat as he took in the cell. Castiel, the quite Angel with those fucking eyes was ramming his dick into Lucifer, the head of the Rebels gang (not that they had anything to rebel against in here, other than maybe those not in the gang). Sex is common among the prisoners, even this hard pounding, but this was rape; Lucifer's wrists were bound behind his back, his mouth covered by one of Castiel's hands, those fancy fingers mashed together to stop any noise from escaping. Lucifer even had tears puddling in his eyes though they never fell.

Castiel was looking at Dean, had been since he'd rounded the corner and seen them. Those eyes stared at Dean as his hips pistoned faster, faster, harder, thrusting into Lucifer's unwilling body, racing toward completion. Not taking his eyes away, Castiel ripped Lucifer's body away and flipped the guy around. Taking the guy by the chin with one hand, he shoved his fingers of the other into Lucifer's mouth, gripped his cheek from the inside and out, fingers curling around the edges of his lips, trying to keep his cock safe from teeth. Holding him still, he let go of is chin and mirrored the action with his newly freed hand. Once he had everything situated, Castiel thrust his cock into Lucifer's mouth and pumped his hips a few more times, still keeping eye contact with Dean.

Dean knew he should look away, say something, tear Castiel away and throttle him with the night stick, but he couldn't get his legs to move. For the life of him he didn't know why.

Well, okay, he did. Sex was sex and sex was arousing. He was a man, not to mention going on a month and five days without getting laid, give him a break.

Dean shuttered when, unbidden, his mind found himself in Lucifer's position. Instead of crying and snotting, he would be writhing on that cock, worshiping it and the power behind the man who wields it.

As though Dean's shiver gives him permission, Castiel came with a grunt. When finished, he pulled out and held Lucifer by the back of the neck and a hand over his mouth, forcing him to swallow. Lucifer gagged and choked, his body thrashing to be let go. Castiel just held him tighter to his side and tightened his grips. After he'd swallowed, Lucifer was shoved away, to the ground, where he stayed.

Dean cleared his throat. Doing his best to be discrete, he adjusted himself as he said, "Solitary. Five days."

* * *

><p><em>One Week Later<em>

Two days. Two days was all it took for Castiel to take his new rightful place as head of the Rebels when he got back to his cell. Gabriel and Raphael became his seconds, of course, dealing out the orders and making sure everything ran smoothly. The old leader had killed himself. It seemed that he couldn't take being demoted gracefully.

Castiel still took every chance he could to stare at Dean, try and make him look away first. It felt strangely juvenile. If Dean gave in first he was seen as the weak one, but if Castiel did it was because he couldn't stand up to Dean. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if they'd stuck their tongues out at each other every time.

"Ash, I think something's wrong."

Ash ruffled his hair, dragged his fingers through it, and chucked. "Yeah. Can you believe someone finally took that asshole down? I mean, Luci was a terrible dude. I'm surprised to hear he actually did himself in."

"No." Dean sighed as he continued to have his hourly staring contest. "I think something's wrong. Something's going to happen. With the Angels taking over the Rebels there's going to be a fight. I can feel it."

They both stood there at the bottom of the stairs and stared out at the prisoners. "I'm kinda thinking I'm with you on this, Winney. Something fishy is going on."

Castiel handed a folded note to Gabriel and stared at Dean.

"I told you, don't fucking call me that."

Ash scoffed. "You love it."

"Fuck you." He growled, gravel added to his words.

Ash barked and smacked Dean's shoulder, hard. "You're so not my type."

Dean was going to retort, he really, really was, but just then a cry ripped through the block, an angry proclamation of the need for action, for blood. It was like that was the signal; every prisoner began to turn on the guards, taking their night sticks and beating them, slashing them with toothbrush shanks and making them bleed like it was Christmas and the more they got the happier they were.

As he pulled his own night stick from his side, Dean trampled over the steps to reach the guard desk. He was three steps from the top when a hard shove toppled him over. Sprawling, Dean tried to get his arms under his body and propel himself up but the weight on his back held him down.

"Get the fuck off! Get off!..." His words were soon muffled by a hand fixing itself over his mouth and a hand running through his hair. Throwing his weight back, he got one arm underneath himself and heaved, making the body laying on top of him move up or be thrown. Finally gaining enough upward thrust he turned his head around and caught a glimpse of his attacker.

"Don't worry. I know you'll enjoy it."

Oh no. Castiel. No, no, no, no. That _ voice. _ That gravel mixed with honey and whiskey and chocolate and_ fuck._ This was wrong, wrong. His breath hitched in his lungs.

"Ge-Get off. No, I don't want this! Stop! Let me go!" Dean would not beg. He wouldn't. The word please would not come from his mouth.

Castiel laid back on top of him, his size doing nothing to tell of the muscles laying under his soft skin.

What the fuck? No way was he commenting on the feel of that hand as it tugged gently on his hair. "Stop, stop."

He didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer, nuzzling the side of Dean's neck just under his ear. "You know you want it. I saw you watching, Dean. You were watching as I was with Lucifer. You liked what you saw, I know you did."

How did he know that? No, no.

"Your eyes, Dean. I saw it in your eyes."

"Get to it, Castiel. If you don't, I think I'll take a taste." Raphael said as he stood over Ash's unconscious body. There was blood trickling from his forehead but he looked otherwise unharmed. Could be dead though.

Rocking his hips, Castiel murmured, "Do you want that, Dean? Do you want me to take you?" When it looked like he was about to reply Castiel continued. "Your choice, sweet. Him or me." Those lips, those constantly slightly chapped lips were brushing his ear and God help him he couldn't think. Glancing up at the other Angel and stilling his struggling body for a moment, he shuddered. Raphael was a huge guy, a gigantic mammoth of a man.

"Neither! Let me..."

Those rocking hips, those fucking hips. His mind went back a week to when he saw Castiel with Lucifer, how he took complete control. He couldn't take that, but Raphael would kill him. Raphael was a monstrous body of bones and rage that would tear him apart.

Instead of dwelling on it, he renewed his struggles.

"Oh no, baby. You tell me." The fingers in his hair became claws and yanked his head back hard, a few strands ripping from his skull. "Now."

"You! Fuck, you."

Looking around he saw many of the prisoners surrounding the top of the staircase preventing any escape while Castiel was behind him, blocking the stairs.

He felt fingers undo his belt, button and zipper, pull them down to his ankles and rip them off, his body thrumming with something like fear. 'Cause Dean doesn't feel fear. The rush of a second zipper being dragged down sounded and okay, so now he felt some fear.

"No. Stop, you can't do this..." Dean yelled.

The clothes were gone. Flesh met flesh and Dean shivered, his entire being contracting and loosening in a series of spastic muscles that all screamed 'Oh-dear-God-I-don't-want-this". When Castiel's palm slid across Dean's ass, his cock was telling a different story. The chorus of breathing around them rose goosebumps on his flesh. The next shiver wasn't entirely from distress.

Castiel's lips were by Dean's ear again, whispering naughty things to him before he shoved two fingers into Dean's mouth to the hilt. Over his gagging Dean heard Raphael ask the others, "Does he only need two, or does him being a tight ass go for this too? Three would be better." A shout rang out through the block, a loud stream of 'fuck him's and 'Make him scream's surrounding him until they all blurred together and he couldn't help but the small whimper that came unbidden from him. Fuck, he really was a pussy like Ash said.

"Aww, I think little guardy likes it." Raphael sneered as the fingers were shoved into his mouth harder.

Castiel whispered in his ear, "You should get them good and wet. It's all you're going to get."

Then, the gagging didn't suck so much. It brought spit to his mouth and he practically slobbered on the fingers so when they were extracted they were dripping and he grimaced when he thought about that being the only lube he was going to get. This was going to hurt. Castiel didn't waste a moment with sensuality and slowness; he pressed his prepped fingers to his hole and pushed in, didn't stop until they were in all the way. Dean let out a small cry of discomfort but tried to reign in anything else.

That is, until Cas started with his murmuring again. "Let me hear you. I want to."

As those fingers grazed him inside just right he couldn't stop his cry of pleasure-pain that was yanked from his lungs. That felt so good, oh, oh, i oh. /i He must have said that out loud because Castiel laughed, the chuckled breath ghosting over his back. "I knew it."

He was embarrassed, but he couldn't stop himself from pushing back onto those talented fingers, hoping they'd graze him just right again. Just as they were pulled out and Dean was stretched enough another round of violence broke out. The other guards were trying to come in and stop the riot. He knew he should be pleased, should be anxious for the others to get here and stop this, but those fingers...

"Just fuck him already!"

Dean whimpered again at the thought. The fingers were taken from him and he whined, arched his back a little to tease them to come back. Castiel ran a hand up his back and lined himself up. Pushing in, he grunted and palmed Dean's erection, rubbing his hand up and down, drawing a strangled moan from Dean.

"I... I don't understand..." It felt so fucking good, so good, but it was all wrong. Those hands were magic, but then again he'd raped another inmate, was kinda-sorta raping Dean... It just felt so good...

"Knew you'd like it. Knew it'd be good." He heard Castiel breath as he pistoned his hips into the curves of Dean's ass, his cock going deep, hitting that spot again and again.

"Look at him! He fuckin' loves it. Little whore." "Take it, you little bitch. You take it and squeal like the pig you are!" "Listen to him moan. Little slut, taking that cock like a fuckin' slut!" The cheers and gibes embarrassed him further, the degradation in the words painful, but Castiel's dick... It shut everything else up and made Dean choke. At that moment he didn't care that he was a guard and Castiel a prisoner. Sex was sex and sex with Castiel was amazing.

"Ungh, ungh, shit..." Dean breathed against his arms that curled around the railing he clung to. "Shit, Cas..."

Castiel fucked him harder at the nickname, making Dean mewl and smack his hand, palm down, on the floor, the snap ringing in his ears alongside the slaps of flesh on flesh and the wonderful drag of Castiel's cock. They fucked and fucked and the crowd cheered.

Dean felt his body tense and his cock jump in Castiel's hand, telling of his impending orgasm. He was so close, so close, then felt Castiel's fingers grip the base of him, staving off his release. "God dammit!" He shouted.

Castiel just shoved back into him and hit his prostate again, murmuring to him, "Not yet."

The rhythm sped up. Those hips smacked him hard, his own hips jutting forward from the force of the thrusts. Castiel grunted and moaned, his body shuddering, then Dean felt those fingers release his cock and Castiel's release being fucked inside of him. He pushed his ass back onto that cock, fucking himself to completion. His climax shook him, shivers wrecked his body and he screamed Castiel's name, his eyes squeezed shut and heart skipping a few beats.

When Castiel pulled out Dean hissed; his hole burned from the mistreatment but damn if he was going to say anything. He couldn't move, his body too blissed out and sated for him to be anything but pliant for Castiel when he was turned around and brutally kissed, those lips that had been teasing his ear now crushing his. Not even wanting to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck and moaned into it.

When he was released, Castiel whispered to him, "When I get out, that's going to happen again."

Dean couldn't have stopped the jump of his dick if he'd tried.


End file.
